


The Huntsman, the Fox and the Scholar.

by persephoneregina



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Cliffhangers, Dark Magic, Gumiho San, Huntsman Wooyoung, Love, Love Triangles, M/M, Mild Gore, Monsters, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Polyamory, Polyandry, Professor Seonghwa, Romance, Rough Sex, Seduction, Seduction to the Dark Side, Sex Magic, Smut, Violent Sex, dub-con, eventual polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneregina/pseuds/persephoneregina
Summary: There are many tales being told about the mysteries of the woods surrounding some little country towns. Happy tales. Romantic tales. Creepy tales. Tales of all kinds and genres, only united by one single common element: all of them, somehow, revolve around the myth of men being able to take over and conquer nature, and in all of them the hero wins over the monster.But human knowledge is renown for its fallacy and its puniness, especially when it comes to defining a monster.Because, all in all, what is a monster if something that is not a human, for any other human being?There are many tales, that much is true.But this one is like no other.This is a tale in which monsters and men go hand in hand and, sometimes, it’s not easy to tell them apart.This is the tale of the huntsman, the fox and the scholar.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa, Choi San/Park Seonghwa, Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 14
Kudos: 82
Collections: leviathanfest





	The Huntsman, the Fox and the Scholar.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Sorry for the incredible delay, but life has been a mess and here I am, posting this at almost 7 a.m. after pulling an all nighter to polish it enough and making it acceptable.  
> I really hope I didn't completely fuck up this whole concept because it is very dear to me and I am very affectionate to it, but unfortunately life has been quite unkind lately and I really couldn't do any better than this.  
> This small story was born in occasion of the Leviathan Ficfest, after an idea I had in the back of my mind for the longest time and on which I never got the chance to actually work before.  
> Now you'll forgive me if I just flop on my bed and hopefully lose my senses.  
> Thank you all for reading this little piece :)  
> Sending all my love <3
> 
> Also, if you like it, please consider leaving kudos or writing a comment, it would mean the world to me and probaby would also imply that there is something strangely fruitful in pushing myself to the verge of a nervous breakdown for the sake of writing :D.  
> As always, you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/persefoneregina); if you'd like to follow me and be updated on my future works and projects!
> 
> UPDATE: it has been brought to my attention that a section of the previous version I uploaded involved non-con dynamics. I sincerely apologise for making anyone feel uncomfortable about my story and I want you all to know that I have removed said section in order to leave no trace of non-consensual themes.  
> Thank you for your attention and for always educating me, I hope you will be able to forgive me and to understand that I deeply regret even writing it.  
> Lots of love.

# The Huntsman, the Fox and the Scholar.

There are many tales being told about the mysteries of the woods surrounding some little country towns. Happy tales. Romantic tales. Creepy tales. Tales of all kinds and genres, only united by one single common element: all of them, somehow, revolve around the myth of men being able to take over and conquer nature, and in all of them the hero wins over the monster.

But human knowledge is renown for its fallacy and its puniness, especially when it comes to defining a monster.

Because, all in all, what is a monster if something that is not a human, for any other human being?

What is a monster if not a creature, a thing, a thought, that embodies the most feared shadows, lingering in the very core of the psyche of men? Shadows of which men are so terrified that they need to exorcise them by operating an act of superb tracotance and attribute them to a creature of a different species, of a different nature, in order to define themselves as good, petrified as they are at the slightest admission of the thought that, in the end, most of the times _all the monsters are human_.

Tales need to mark the line between shadow and light so much that they very often happen to forget that there is a strict form of coexistence and codependency between these two elements in life. Shadow and light, goodness and evilness, love and hate, gentleness and violence do not only define one another: the need one another in order to exist.

Opposition is the condition of existence.

Without opposition, there is no chance to definition.

Without definition, there is no existence.

Opposition, definition and existence are tied together in an unbreakable bond that dooms them to eternal conflict just as it blesses them with eternal harmony.

Nonetheless, humans need to believe so bad in their intrinsic goodness that they become so blind that they fail to see how the conflict is not between them and something else: the conflict is within them. The enemy has always been inside, lurking, creeping, seething.

There are many tales, that much is true.

But this one is like no other.

This is a tale in which monsters and men go hand in hand and, sometimes, it’s not easy to tell them apart.

This is the tale of the huntsman, the fox and the scholar.

* * *

  
  
  


_There were many of my kind, once upon a time._

_We lived a life of prosperity in the woods, ruled by Mother Moon, guiding us and providing to our survival with everything we could need to lead a happy existence._

_An idyllic world where my kin could flourish and reign over with undiscussed supremacy, because of the superiority onto every other creature granted us by our special bond with the Goddess._

_Everyone would respect us._

_Everyone would instinctively recognise our divine nature and wither in fear and deference, for they all knew who we were and what we were capable of._

_Our power knew no parallel and we lived in total harmony with nature, as a whole, drinking the arcane flows streaming in the rivers and breathing the enchanted essences hovering in the air from the depths of the soil, infused by the magic living in every creature, animal, vegetal, mineral._

_Yet, that was until the humans found us._

_When they found out about our realm on earth, they begun to desecrate it in order to profit off of it, without the slightest regret or shame for the savage way with which they preyed on us._

_Of course, we fought._

_Of course, we resisted._

_But in the end, one after the other, we fell under the raw violence with which they massacred us, treating us like trophies, beasts for slaughter, meant for them to murder and dispose of as they pleased._

_Our highborne kin had never used magic to purposely harm or to fight._

_We were not prepared._

_In spite of how much we would try to flee and have our life saved, they would have hunted us down until they would have found us, killed us, skinned us, slaughtered us. They did this and much more to us, mercilessly lusting for our blood and our fur and our bodies. The luckiest one of us got killed. The ones who had it worst were kidnapped and sold as slaves to wealthier humans, in order to satisfy their perversions, only to be then abandoned and doomed to die in excruciating pains and terrible starvations when they didn’t need them anymore, or when they noticed that we would have let ourselves die rather than being enslaved and out to a leash, doomed to comply with their sickest fantasies and repulsive wishes._

_Soon enough, of the world I had learnt to love and to know as a cub, there was nothing left. Our home had been turned into a cursed land._

_My family, my friends, my people, had become extinct under the ravaging, senseless bloodlust of humans._

_And now, I am left alone._

_The last Gumiho alive._

_They called us monsters when we were defenseless, innocent martyrs._

_They have no idea what we could do._

_I, as the last of my lineage, have lived in the promise to avenge every single life they’ve stolen with their mindless savagery, and calling me a monster isn’t even close to what I have become._

* * *

  
  
  


The perfect silence of the night is broken by the muffled sound of two travellers’ steps, led on the stemmed path leading to the edge of the forest by the pale light of the full moon, shining a bright light for them to follow.

The steps move forward, slightly hesitating and stumbling on the parts where the steep trail narrows in front of them, until they stop when the travelers reach for a small hollow, surrounded by fern bushes and sycamores. In front of them, an impressively wide forest stretches towards the horizon as far as the eyes can see.

“Well, if you agree, I think we should rest for tonight and go scouting tomorrow morning.” The shorter one says, dropping the bags he has been carrying and the heavy weapons on his back on the soft, dewy grass, with a long, tired sigh.

“Sure. Let’s camp here. Tomorrow we will have all the time in the world to go on our first recon. Thank you again for taking me with you, Wooyoung. I know I’m probably not the kind of travelling companion you’re used to having…” The other man answers, carefully placing down his belongings and stretching his aching neck after the long hike, to which he definitely doesn’t look used to.

“I don’t have travelling companions, usually.” Wooyoung dryly retaliates, while he swiftly gets to work with a worn out wooden hammer and some pickets.

“How may I help you?” The other man tries to get close to him, hesitantly dangling around him with an awkward expression on his face, frozen by his companion’s words.

It’s clear that his inexperience is getting in the way and that Wooyoung only took him with him because he offered to pay for his share of the trip, but still, he would really like to have something to do, in order to feel less of a nuisance. He’s already been uncomfortable during the whole trip, which has been lasting for days. Wooyoung barely spared him a few words every now and then. He tried to talk to him, of course, in spite of his timid nature, in order to try and get acquainted with him, but nothing seemed to have solicited his attention towards him, so after a few attempts he gave up, but now that their real adventure together is beginning he would like to prove that, after all, he’s still capable of being dependable. 

“Sit down and wait.” Wooyoung’s words hit him like an avalanche.

He shrugs and sits down, holding his head low and pulling an oil lamp out of one of his bags, with a box of matches and a leather notebook. After lighting up the lamp, he opens up the notebook on his thighs and takes the chance to go through his notes regarding the creatures he expects to find in the forest and hopefully catalogate, before traveling all the way back to London, where the Royal Society’s committee awaits for him to finish the research on Korean wildlife they had the grace to finance. And yet him, Professor Park Seonghwa, an internationally awarded and esteemed zoologist, finds himself feeling intimidated by that huntsman, who looks at him with the condescendence that, where he comes from, is reserved only to the most slow-witted children. Of course, that whole trip has been tiring, but the most excruciating thing to endure has definitely been keeping his composure in front of that man who did not only refuse to acknowledge the kind of respect he owed him as an academic and a scientist, but also as a person. Seonghwa would have wanted to have allowed himself a little slip from his usual aplomb and to have taught that man a couple lessons, but then again, there is something about Wooyoung, something about his ancestral knowledge of animals and nature overall, that Seonghwa needs to get the grasp of. He cannot afford to let his ego dictate his actions, for that would imply the loss of any possibility to learn from such a proficient and seasoned hunter the fundamental elements of his knowledge. Seonghwa cannot afford himself to antagonise him. He needs Wooyoung to trust him, and to do so, he has to demonstrate to him that he is, to a certain extent, trustworthy, but at the same time his constant refusal for any form of interaction has been so incredibly off putting that Seonghwa is too upset to even want to make an attempt.

He sighs, then goes back to his papers.

Maybe he should just give up and comply with his wishes, at least for tonight.

There will be more than enough time to try again tomorrow.

“Professor -Wooyoung’s voice calls him, bringing him back to reality, after a while- Your tent is ready.”

“Ah, thank you. Thank you very much, Wooyoung, that was very kind of you.” Seonghwa awkwardly says, picking up his belongings and dragging them inside the tent that the hunter has prepared for him.

While he tries to arrange the few, essential things he brought with himself, and starts to take off his traveling clothes, all dusty and sweaty like he had never thought they could have ever been, he hears a cackling sound coming from outside. 

Without even minding to wear a clean shirt, Seonghwa gets out of his tent and finds Wooyoung busy carefully skinning a rabbit in front of a nicely arranged fire, long locks of golden hair framing his tired, yet handsome face, and specks of golden light reflecting into hid endlessly deep black eyes. He would like to stop staring, but he cannot help himself. Of course, Wooyoung has never shown him any kind of friendliness, but that doesn’t make him any less charming. Deeply lost in contemplation of his gloriously manly features, Seonghwa makes the fatal mistake to take a step closer, snapping a twig under his foot and making Wooyoung instantly raise his gaze, only find, in front of himself, that weird foreigner standing with an absorbed expression on his face, half naked, his sweaty, glossy skin gently set aglow by the fire’s warm light. 

Wooyoung is used to hunting, and yet he has never wanted so much to catch a prey.

“‘Tis chilly tonight.” Seonghwa states, making his nth attempt to a resemblance of a small talk.

“I’ve had it worse.” Wooyoung dryly retaliates, trying to keep his eyes away from the Professor in order to hide his blushing cheeks. This whole situation is already unusual per se, the last thing he wants to do is to make that fancy western educated man misunderstand his feelings… Or, even worse, perfectly understanding them.

“I bet you did. You’d be surprised to know I’ve been through a couple adventures myself, too. Still remember that time I was about to die of hypothermia during my trip to Siberia.” When he mentions his trips around the world, he suddenly earns Wooyoung’s full attention.

“Siberia? Does that mean that…” The huntsman stares at the Professor with his mouth agape, completely mind blown, as if he has suddenly had the realisation that the one standing next to him isn’t all that much of a sissy, but rather someone he should definitely reconsider his whole opinion of.

“Yes, it does mean that I have seen and studied the Amur tigers. Splendid animals, if you ask me. Glorious. Powerful. Intimidating. Never seen a fur so white and eyes that green in any other species in the world. Tose tigers are something else, let me tell you. When gazing in their eyes, you almost feels like they stare into yours as well… You know, like they are able to see your soul. That was the closest experience I’ve ever had to a religious rapture.”

Wooyoung listens to what the Professor has to say and suddenly feels like a child all over again. He’s almost ashamed of himself. When he looks at an animal, he first evaluates where to shoot in order to kill it at once without ruining its fur. But when Seonghwa sees an animal… That’s a completely different story.

He hides his face away, sucking in his cheeks, embarrassed of himself.

“Have you ever hunted down a tiger, Wooyoung?” Seonghwa asks with his gentle voice.

“Never.” He says, going back to skinning the rabbit.

“I was thinking that maybe, after we’re done here, we could move north and try to see if we manage to spot a few. It would be an interesting addition to my studies. That is, of course, if you wouldn’t mind giving me more of your precious time.” The professor looks at him with a kind smile that makes Wooyoung feel all warm and fuzzy.

He’s always so gentle and caring, so intriguing with his stories and so respectful in his manners. Wooyoung almost feels like he doesn’t deserve any of those things, quite taken aback by the way Seonghwa makes him feel like a person worth listening to and just as dignified as anyone else. 

“Sure. We could do that.” He says, smiling shyly.

For the first time ever since their first meeting, Wooyoung seems to be showing off a little sympathy towards him, and Seonghwa cannot help but rejoice, deep down. 

This whole new task is going to probably take them at least one more month together, and even though Wooyoung had different projects for the future, he cannot help but feel quite excited and overall gleeful at the idea of being all alone with Seonghwa for more time than he initially thought. More time to listen to his wonderful stories, to show him the wondrous places he knows like his pockets, to stare at the way his eyes light up with awe, to look at his beautiful expressions and to contemplate his marvellous body, dreaming about taking him and making him his own.

His mind clearly takes him too far for a few seconds, because when he comes back to his senses, Wooyoung notices how seonghwa is staring at him and biting on his lip, which makes Wooyoung feel a scorching flare all over his groin area and a lustful twitching in his leather pants.

“Are you hungry, Professor?” He asks, with a mischievous look on his face, that makes Seonghwa blush for a reason he cannot really admit.

The more he looks at him, the more mesmerized he is: there is something about him, sitting down in the grass, still drenched in sweat, streaks of dirt dusting his cheekbones and hands covered in blood, that is wild, sensual, intimidating and inviting, and it’s pulling Seonghwa dangerously closer, like a magnet. 

Seonghwa takes another step closer, failing all of the barriers imposed by his self control, not letting go of Wooyoung’s heavy, hypnotizing gaze and slowly sliding down to sit right next to him, his skin burning with a heat that does not come from the fire.

“Yes.” He whispers, as he leans towards the hunter, gently moving a lock of his hair from his face and tucking it a the back of his ear, only to hesitantly caress Wooyoung’s cheek with the warm palm of his hand. “Are you?”

At this simple, yet crucially meaningful gesture, Wooyoung places a hand around Seonghwa’s lean and elegant neck, tarnishing his porcelain white complexion with vivid red streaks of animal blood, as he drags him closer to his face, so close that he can breathe his breath and anticipate his tongue’s taste in his own mouth.

Wooyoung bites his lip, before looking at the beautiful foreigner with a devilish glance, promising indescribable wonders of unspeakable nature.

“I hope you’re into wild things.” He growls, while his fingers aggressively knead the soft skin of Seonghwa’s neck and then proceed to slide down along the shape of his chest, ending up wrapped around his waist, thumbs pressed oh his hip bones. 

“I’m a zoologist. I’m definitely into wild things.” Seonghwa whispers with a sensual tone, that Wooyoung hadn’t had the pleasure to hear from him until that moment, as he elegantly crawls on top of the huntsman’s lap.

“...What about _this_ wild thing?” Teases Wooyoung, rolling his hips upwards to make sure the Professor can feel all of his huge self along his cleft.

“ _Especially_ this wild thing.” Retaliates the Professor, suddenly eager to prove all of his proficiency, enticingly straddling on the hard shaft under himself with a waving, hypnotic, compelling movement of his loins.

Before they can realize, their lips collide and their hands are all over each other’s body, pulling strings and ripping fabrics, searching, touching, grabbing, in a frenetic impetus of unquenchable desire embroidered by lustful whispers and constellated by sinful moans. 

Soon enough, their two worlds don’t seem to be too far apart, as they get sated off of each other’s pleasure, yet incapable of having too much of it, to ask for more, to crave for more, relishing in the endless delight provided by the reciprocal feral consumption. 

While the rabbit ends up being forgotten on the cold grass, their bodies dance a primal dance that cannot otherwise be taught and their mouths sing a song in a language without words. Their longing whispers die with the night, their need finds peace in the dawning lights, and their eyes only set as the new day rises.

The following day, no one dares to speak a word about what happened. 

They already started with the wrong foot, since they skipped their morning route and slept until the sun was high in the sky, much to Wooyoung’s disappointment. As soon as they wake up, it is very clear to Seonghwa that the intercourse they had holds no significance whatsoever and that their connection has faded with the moon, since the hunter doesn’t even bother to look at him or to talk to him, if it’s not to ask him if he’s ready to go after the frugal lunch they consume in complete silence, only casually throwing some expecting glances at each other that, eventually, fall in nothingness.

Wooyoung would like to say something, but of all the things he’s proficient at, words are definitely not in the picture. He’s a practical one, and the silence of the Professor speaks volumes to him: he’s been probably a pleasant distraction for his refined tastes, and there’s really no point in trying to get closer to him, since after that month he has promised to spend taking him around to explore the nature and collect wildlife exemplars, the Professor will be back to where he came from, to that cold city in the West, surrounded by fancy people in fancy clothes with fancy houses doing fancy things. In his mind, he will probably be nothing more than a distant memory, an anecdote to tell at parties, a souvenir from Korea, at the very best. Firstly, because he doesn’t feel like allowing any of these things to happen, not to himself, not now anyway: he has spent so many years in complete solitude that he wouldn’t even know what to do if perchance he happened to allow himself to fall for someone. All he knows is that any emotional involvement has never brought anything good to him, and that is more than enough knowledge on the matter for him.Therefore, he keeps reminding himself to be as detached as possible from that dangerous man coming from far away, if he doesn’t want to end up black and blue. Second of all… What could be the realistic chances for people like them in the world they live in? He for sure would have to leave his home, and he’s not so sure the western world would be any more tolerant of those of their kind… 

Wooyoung brushes away those kind of thoughts from his head as he fixes his quiver and crossbow on his back, before turning around to check on the Professor, who is clumsily storing the things he needs in his leather satchel before their hike. 

“Are you good to go? We cannot lose any more time.” He states, earning himself a surprised gaze from Seonghwa, who just gives him a vigorous nod and gives one last careful look at their camping site, before walking up to him with an embarrassed half smile. “Neat. Follow me and don’t be too noisy. Your steps are already quite heavy, you’ll make all the animals run away.” 

After speaking those last words, Wooyoung turns around and starts to make way for himself and Seonghwa in the thick foliage of the woods with long and at the same time soundless falcades. Seonghwa observes the way his muscles flex and unwind, with the same graceful elasticity of those of the big felines he could observe during his trips in Africa, and bitterly smiles to himself as he observes how the hunter seems to have the exact same elegance, the same natural instinct, the same inclination for the chase, the same instinctual knowledge, and, goes without saying, the same lethality. Even the way his hair floats with the wind gusts remind him of the thick, regal mane of a lion. Seonghwa knows he should be paying attention to his surroundings, but everytime they pause in order for Wooyoung to scrutinize the environment around themselves, all he can really focus on is the way his eyebrows furrow, the way his eyes squint when he is analysing steps and traces on the soil, the way his golden skin glows under the bright sunlight. He surely is a majestic sight to see. More majestic than anything else he has ever had the chance to observe in his entire life, anyway. When they reach the edge of a vale, Seonghwa feels Wooyoung’s hand pressing on his own chest. It’s a light touch, almost as impalpable as a feather, but nonetheless it is decisive, strong, volitive. 

The Professor raises his eyes, until now kept low and fixed on the impervious ground, with an interrogative expression.

“Careful now -whispers Wooyoung, under his breath, pointing at something in the distance for Seonghwa to see- Look.”

When eventually Seonghwa manages to divert his eyes from Wooyoung’s face and to look in the direction he suggested him, his jaw drops in awe and it takes him a great deal of self control to choke a surprised sound in his throat: at the center of the glade, surrounded by marigolds and daisies, stands a beautiful white fox, peacefully rubbing itself on the flowers and the herbs, hopping here and there in a playful dance, with the one that looks like a happy smile on its snout, and wagging its fluffy tail out of pure glee. 

Seonghwa smiles, endeared at the incredibly beautiful scenery in front of him, filled with joy, marvel and tenderness: he had never in his life had the privilege to see a white fox in the flesh, let alone an exemplar as beautiful and healthy as that one, with such a thick, luscious fur and such a powerful expressivity. The more he looks at the fox, the more he sees something almost human in its demeanor, in the way it communicates joy with its whole body, its face included, that almost resembles the one of a child.

But soon enough his attention is brought back to the hunter sitting next to him, and when he takes his eyes off of the fox, he sees Wooyoung kneeling down in the grass, silently, and picking up his crossbow and an arrow. Seonghwa knows he should not antagonize him: after all, collecting local wildlife exemplars in order to catalogate them is what he came to do in the first place. He cannot expect of Wooyoung to accept to capture them alive and then let them go after he studied them… And yet, there’s something within him that riots against his rationality and just demands of him to do something to spare the life of that innocent creature. Before he can realise what he is doing, Seonghwa finds his hand wrapped around the forearm of the hunter, fingers locking it in a tight, relentless grip. Wooyoung suddenly turns around to stare at him, his face tensed in a vicious expression, nostrils rhythmically dilating with heavy, angered breaths and teeth gritting.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing, _Professor_?” He spits out, voice filled with deprecation and unconcealed grievance.

“Please. Please, Wooyoung, can you… _Please_.” Seonghwa implores, wishfully hoping for his companion to see reason and to have mercy on the fox. Wooyoung looks at his potential prey, then at Seonghwa, then back at it, before letting out a sigh and putting the crossbow down, defeated and visibly upset.

“I’m sorry, but it just-” Seonghwa tries to speak, but he is instantly petrified by a deadly glare coming from his companion, who jumps up from his stance and just walks away from him, furious. If only he could, he would have probably shot that arrow to him, Seonghwa thinks, filled with discomfort and resignation.

“Wooyoung…” He whispers, trying to stop him, but he doesn’t hear or, more likely, doesn’t want to listen, as he swiftly walks away with long strides.

“Wooyoung, wait for me, please!” Seonghwa pleads, and now his voice is louder, shutting down the cheerful chirping of the birds, not caring about the animals running away from them anymore, and yet his voice fall into nothingness, only leaving room for a discomforting and annihilating vale of silence, stretching itself further and further between them with every step that Wooyoung takes to distance himself from the Professor. 

“WOOYOUNG!” Seonghwa screams, to the top of his lungs, so many times that he loses the count of them, yet never enough to make him turn around, and at the same time incapable to follow him and to close the gap between them. 

He could, if he wanted to, if only he could run, but his legs don’t seem to be willing to follow his mind’s orders. All Seonghwa can do is miserably calling his name, until it makes no more sense, until it becomes just a meaningless sequence of phonemes gurgling out of his lips, and the more he screams it, the more Wooyoung seems willing to deny him any form of attention.

He seems, because all of a sudden the hunter turns around, his face contorted by a raw anger Seonghwa had never seen on anyone before and, anyway, never directed to himself in the first place.

“We had a deal, remember? I would have guided you on your expedition, you would have been able to look at your animals, I would have been able to hunt them. What did you expect?” Wooyoung roars to his face, breathing heavily, his hands wrapped so tightly around the crossbow that his knuckles have turned white in the effort to spare Seonghwa a couple punches in the face.

“I know and I promise I will never do this again, but… Why would you be so upset? It’s just a fox!” Seonghwa retaliates, in a whiny voice that still gives away a certain amount of hassle on his behalf. He’s tired of coping with all of the hunter’s intemperances and impositions and quirks, not to mention all that emotional push and pull, and now the way he got so mad because he politely asked him not to kill one single fox is beyond his understanding.

“It is not just a fox! Have you ever seen a creature with a fur like that? I haven’t. And I’ve been roaming these woods for years. It could have made me rich. It could have made you rich. We don’t see white foxes here in Korea. But you decided all of a sudden that you were not agreeing with the terms of our deal anymore. And now I don’t agree with these new ones. I’m pulling out. Suit yourself, Professor. Hope you’ll find what you’re looking for on your own.” Wooyoung spits out all of his resentment to a powerless, disheartened Seonghwa, who lowers his head a little more after every word dropping out of the hunter’s mouth, one more hurtful than the other, until his eyes itch with hot tears of rage and angst and his palms ache for clenching too tight, nails carving small crescents in his skin. 

He would like to answer, he would like to stop Wooyoung’s steps getting further from him, he would like to say something to explain the reason why he stopped him, but Seonghwa cannot find the words nor the will to follow him, anchored to the ground by his pride and spite, too emotionally worn out to pick up a fight on principles with someone who _clearly_ knows no form of ethics, let alone honor. He doesn’t even consider the fact that, effectively, he needs Wooyoung, too invested in standing his ground to realise where his hubris could take him.

So, through his wet lashes, Seonghwa stares in the distance at the silhouette of Wooyoung leaving him in the middle of the forest, in spite of the way he feels his heart plunge in his chest in a sudden moment of awareness circa the irreversibility of his actions. 

Actions have consequences. 

That is a concept Seonghwa, as a scientist, is quite familiar with: in the words of Sir Isaac Newton, “for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” The statement means that in every interaction, there is a pair of forces acting on the two interacting objects. The size of the forces on the first object equals the size of the force on the second object. Seonghwa never really thought about how much does the third law of motion have to do with real life interactions between individuals. But now he sees how much both him and Wooyoung have behaved exactly like two objects, subdued to some form of unknown force that pulled them so close to have them clashing together, only to tear them apart afterwards, determining the outcome of their encounter without leaving them any chance of applying their will to the field within which they have been interacting.

And, just like an inanimate object, Seonghwa stands, motionless, and witnesses Wooyoung both repulsing him and being by him repulsed.

When he turns around, the fox is still there, in the same exact place where he has spotted it. The smile on its snout is gone. There is a sinister, knowing light in its eyes that suddenly makes Seonghwa feel extremely uncomfortable, almost as if the animal was seeing right through him. A cold shiver runs down his spine and he starts to feel pins and needles all over his limbs, shaken by flares of pain and chills, yet he cannot take his eyes away from the fox ones.

Then, the fox leaves.

And, just like with Wooyoung, Seonghwa makes no resistance.

One by one, the birds start chirping again, covering up the thumping sound of the Professor’s heartbeat. He falls down on his knees and despair falls upon him all at once.

Now he is completely alone.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


After spending hours and hours trying to find his way back to the camp and out of the woods, Seonghwa admits to himself that arguing with Wooyoung has probably been his worst idea ever, even worse than that time when he tried to force an erection on a lion to better study its anatomy. Soon enough, after Wooyoung has left him alone, he has lost his sense of orientation and has to bitterly admit to himself that he is in trouble: every tree looks the same to him, every stone is just like other hundreds he has tried to use as a reference, every path is misleading. The more he tries to find a familiar route, the more he curses himself for paying way too much attention to the hunter, on their way in, and too little to their surroundings. He should never have trusted him in the first place, to begin with. He should have known better. He should have been prepared for that kind of dishonorable behavior, and if on the one side Seonghwa is beyond angered at how Wooyoung just walked away, without a second thought or a moment of hesitation, on the other hand he cannot even afford to be mad at him since, given the extreme circumstances he now finds himself into, he needs to save up all of his energies. This kind of awareness strikes Seonghwa even harder in the moment he actually notices how the light is getting warmer and the shadows are elongating themselves along the shapes of the woodlands around him, to the point that the woods suddenly don’t look like a peaceful and fairy-taleish landscape anymore, but rather like a grim and unsettling ambience, where the green leaves glisten and glow in ruby and gold shades wherever the sun stretches its searing fingers and the expanse of grass is set ablaze by the amaranth light of sunset. Before he knows, Seonghwa finds himself standing in the one that looks like a fever dream, almost as if a whole season had passed in front of his eyes in the matter of seconds, causing the nature to prematurely wither and holding him hostage of that flamboyant hallucination. The more he turns around, the more unbearably searing and blinding the light becomes, so much that he cannot even bear to keep his eyes opened in more than a slight crescent, and even then he’s incapable of capturing the sight of any shapes or silhouettes, completely scorched and blinded, while warm exhalations of sulfurous fumes rise from the soil and intoxicate him with their earthy, metallic, decaying smells, which Seonghwa cannot help but inhale. It’s not too long before he gets completely overwhelmed by an abrupt and uncontrollable panic attack taking over him, giving him no access to his usual rational thinking, the same mindset that, on that day, he seems to have utterly forgotten owning, having inadvertently and helplessly abdicated in favour of his fallible and misguiding emotions. _What an incredibly poor set of decisions I’ve made,_ Seonghwa tells himself in his clouded and hazy mind in a glimpse of reason, _what a disgraceful fool have I made of myself…_

Then, his own mental voice starts to fade, dimmed down and fazed by the mesmerizing effect of the fumes, and Seonghwa crumbles down on himself under the relentless pull of an unforeseen, sudden vertigo, that makes his mind go blank as he hits the damp soil.

He doesn’t know for how long he has stayed unconscious.

Next thing he knows, after the senseless experience he scarcely recalls witnessing, he hears the sound of a set of light, swift steps drawing a circle around his body and the one that seems to be a sniffing sound hovering on his head, neck and back.

After a little while, the steps stops and he clearly feels the vibration of a body sitting next to him. 

Wooyoung? He thinks in his mind, but he is forced to exclude that option: Wooyoung is way heavier than whoever has found him, and plus he surely wouldn’t have sniffed him, if he had found him. Seonghwa is too scared to open his eyes and actually check to find out who the person next to him is, but before he can come up with any strategy, he senses a pair of unbelievably strong hands, with the ones that feel, under his clothes, against his skin, like some remarkably long nails, pulling him up and turning him on his back. 

For the first time in probably hours, Seonghwa breathes easy, mentally thanking his unknown saviour for that.

“Oh, thank Goddess, I made it on time!” A clear, vivacious, masculine voice exclaims, with an underlying shade of pure, almost juvenile glee in its tone, while caressing the Professor’s sweaty face with the slightly callous, brittle palms of his hands, in a touch that feels definitely strage, but nonetheless pleasant. “You saved my life, kind stranger. Please allow me to pay you back by saving yours.”

Now, Seonghwa might have been slightly absent minded ever since he left Seoul at Wooyoung’s side, but he’s still quite convinced that he would definitely remember saving anyone’s life. Though the kind stranger must have mistaken him for someone else, he is still extremely grateful for that happy incident. He tries to open his eyes, but his lids feel too heavy and almost sticky, which immediately makes him bring his hands towards them, but the stranger stops them by firmly wrapping his long fingers around his wrists, so tight that it almost hurts. 

“Don’t touch.” The unknown whispers next to his ear in a warm, breathy voice, as he feels him picking him up in his arms almost effortlessly and starting to walk in a peaceful, relaxed way. The cold night breeze creeps under Seonghwa’s clothes and makes him shiver,yet he doesn’t complain in any way about it. A sense of safety pervades him, as he lays his head to rest against the stranger’s chest, feeling a soft and smooth fabric brush against his cheek, but even though Seonghwa would like to completely entrust him, there is something off about him. Maybe it’s his weirdly accelerated heartbeat. Maybe he’s still a little stiffy from the feeling of those long nails against his skin. Maybe it’s the way with which he stops, every now and then, to sniff the air around himself, almost as if he tries to use his smell to orient his steps in the depth of the woods and not his sight or geographic knowledge of the area. But Seonghwa is too weak and tired to ask himself any questions right now, not to mention how, in that moment, the stranger is the best chance he has to make it out alive, so he lays his head back and dozes off, cradled by the rhythm of his calm breath in the safe, warm hold of his arms.

After a long, yet pleasantly slow walk, Seonghwa gets back to his senses when the unknown’s steps stop and his posture changes,banding himself over him. Seonghwa feels himself being held tighter against his body, while a pregnating smell of elderflower, honey and althea fills up his nostrils all of a sudden and a hot draught invests him, contrasting with the cool night air. Then the stranger lays him down on what feels like a sheaf of leaves, that makes a few cracking sounds under his weight and that pricks his skin under the clothes. It takes quite a while for Seonghwa to get comfortable, as he tosses and turns around to accommodate himself, twitching every now and then at the occasional stings of the dry leaves. 

“Now, now, aren’t you a little delicate thing?” The unknown says, through the giggles, as he seems to chew something, judging from the wet sounds coming from his mouth.

Then, he gets close to Seonghwa and massages a warm mush with an intense, stinging, balsamic smell onto his eyes.

“W-what is this?” Seonghwa asks, shyly and lowkey scared, under his breath.

“It’s a medicine.” The kind stranger says, with his usual polite tone, even though Seonghwa can tell that he’s being evasive.

“What kind of medicine?” He insists, determined to find out what kind of remedy is being used on him.

Seonghwa tells himself that he’s asking out of purely academic curiosity, to hide himself the fact that he’s being nonsensically anxious. 

“A medicine you don’t know or understand, _human_. Ask no questions and you’ll get no lies.”

Human?

What does he mean?

If he hadn’t already been nervous out of his mind, now Seonghwa is straight up on the verge of having a meltdown.

Why would anyone call him human?

Isn’t his interlocutor human as well?

What’s going on?

All sorts of questions crowd his mind, making his breath heavier and labored, to the point that the unknown has to grab him by the shoulders and pin him down against the bed of leaves, until the panic attack starts to fade and the strong compression on his body eventually soothes his nerves.

“Calm down now. Calm down. You are safe. I am your friend, human. Now, I will clean up your eyes and you will be able to see again. No screaming. No fear. I am your friend.” The stranger’s voice is slow and melodic, almost chanting, with a rhythmic undertone that instinctively soothes Seonghwa and makes him release his previous tension. 

There is something hypnotizing and ancestral in the way he speaks, something irresistible, compelling, that sounds like something in between a charm and a lullaby, cradling Seonghwa to a place of comfort and intense relief, where the rightful objections of his rationality cannot reach the surface of his mind and where his fears and phobias are dimmed down to simple, muffled murmurs in the back of his skull. Seonghwa exhales, while the unknown ever so gently rubs off the medication from his eyes and cleans his skin with a warm, wet cloth. 

“There you go… All nice and clean…” The stranger murmurs with a sweet and caring voice, as he indulges in caressing the Professors cheeks with his hands. “Open your eyes now, dear one.”

Seonghwa complies and flutters his lids a few times before he’s able to actually open them fully, and even then, it still takes him a few seconds to bring into focus the shapes. At first, all he sees are dark shadows. Then his eyes start to capture glimpses of faint light glimmering alongside the edges of the silhouettes. Eventually, when he is able to adequately see, his eyes widen in marvel and amazement: right in front of him, gently glowing under the soft moonlight, sits the most beautiful creature Seonghwa has ever seen, unlike anything else in his entire life. A pair of wide, fuzzy, cat-like ears come out of his thick, silver mane of glossy hair, while the creatures bright, lively, golden eyes deeply stare at him with interest, and while his face and overall body structure is just the like of those of other men, there are a few elements that definitely leave no doubt as for the fact that the creature is most definitely not human. To begin with, his hands and feet: they are covered in a short, soft layer of light fur and their structure is extremely tapered, with gnarly articulations and long, dark nails that incredibly resemble claws. His legs are like a dog’s ones, with a tall tarsal joint that only allows the tip of his feet to touch the ground. But the element that shocks Seonghwa the most are the nine long, thick, fluffy, silver tails that elegantly wag at the back of that wondrous, charming creature.

The stranger bobs his head to the side, ears twitching inquisitively as he squints his eyes with a sly smile.

“Hello. -he whispers, slyly- My name is San and I owe you my life. Thank you very much for saving me, this morning.”

“Excuse me, but… I think you must have mistaken me for someone else. I have done nothing like... -as Seonghwa speaks, the memories of the previous day slide in his mind as a sequence of transparencies and his attention is caught by one particular moment: the fox in the vale- _that_.”

“Remember me now, Professor?” San asks, voice as smooth as velvet, while he caresses Seonghwa’s face with the tip of one of his tails, tickling him and making him shiver at the same time. “Just an innocent, little fox, playing in a flowery vale, joyfully hopping, oblivious of the impending danger… One with a heart of the likes of yours could have never allowed such a mindless act of violence, and for that I am grateful.” San bows down, pulling the edges of his beautiful, night blue, silk robe apart in a deep courtsy. “Impressed by my manners, Professor? Well, you should be. Those of your kin have shown very few to my people, but I am a firm believer in the fact that the best retaliation is to prove oneself superior. But I digress… You probably care very little about these little, petty trifles. You’re probably wondering _what is he?_ Well, since this question seems to be haunting that pretty little head of yours so much, I shall do you the grace of an answer. I am, as a matter of fact, one of the noblest creatures that have ever walked the Earth. I am a gumiho. Do you know what a gumiho is, Professor?”

There is something deeply unsettling and exciting at the same time in the way he carries himself, slowly walking in circles in front of him, as he accompanies the words coming out of his mouth with elegant waves of his slender wrists and hypnotizingly curling and relaxing his fingers. He only stops to stare at him, dead in the eyes, when his speech is over, with an interrogative face that exudes an ancient magnetism, beyond every form of attraction or interest Seonghwa has ever felt towards a creature. He doesn’t fully understand how or why, but he is compelled to answer with a vigorous shake of his head, almost unconscious.

“I thought so. We are beautiful children of the moon, custodians of an ancient arcane magic, masters of transfiguration, half men, half foxes, leading a peaceful life in harmony with nature and other animals. Well, at least, we _were_ , before humans found us and mercilessly slaughtered us, sold us as slaves, skinned us alive, until, one after the other, my people were decimated and we nearly became extinct. Everyone died. Everyone but me. I have been completely alone ever since and I have taken it upon myself to protect the woods and the forms of life within them. Even though you completely ignored all of these facts, you, Professor, have saved way more than you could imagine today, by having that hunter sparing me from such a crude murder. Now, is there anything I can do to fully repay your kindness?” 

Seonghwa stares at the creature, still incredulous, baffled and confused, trying to study his anatomy, and doesn’t dare speaking. In the meanwhile, the gumiho has sat down on a rock and pulled out of his pocket a small, elegant, silver pipe, pressed a pinch of herbs into its shell and lit it with a blue flame generated by a simple snap of his fingers.

“You know what? Let’s take it easy. What is your name, to begin with?” San asks, after taking a long drag from the pipe and while blowing out of his mouth small smoke circles.

“Seonghwa… I’m Professor Park Seonghwa, zoologist, from London…” He answers, obediently, in a whisper.

“Oh, this makes very much sense. Now, Professor Park Seonghwa, do you think some food could bring back your chattiness? Or do you want me to beg to know what I can do to settle my debt?” San says, in a playful, yet authoritarian way.

“I think you’ve already done more than enough for me, a life for a life seems a fair deal to me.” Seonghwa murmurs, occasionally stumbling in his own words, inexplicably intimidated by the majestic creature.

“See, this is what humans are used to think. You trade one good for another good and that’s about it. But you didn't just save my life. You saved mine and those of all the other creatures populating this forest, and if you put the consequences of my death into perspective, you will suddenly notice how this equation suddenly appears strongly unbalanced. Therefore, I will only ask once more: what do you want in return, Professor?” In spite of San’s words being extremely gentle and his manners giving away an absolute politeness, Seonghwa is quite sure that there is a glimpse of irritation that is slowly surfacing with a certain increasing aggressiveness and that, deep down, makes him feel cornered and vulnerable.

The gumiho looks at him, right in the eyes, with his piercing gaze, getting closer and closer to him in a slow prowling motion, a mischievous smile progressively stretching his lips, as if he were seeing right through his deepest, darkest desires. 

“I… I would like to… I would love it if you could show me the creatures living in the woods. I wouldn’t lay a finger on them… I just want to be able to study them, if that could be possible for you.” Seonghwa spits out eventually, with the same heaviness that his words would have had if he had had his most hidden secret being pulled out of his chest, surrendering to the compelling charm of the gumiho.

“Oooh, so that’s what you came here to do… And let me guess, is that the reason why you brought into my world that vicious murderer?” San asks, while gently brushing the tip of his nails along Seonghwa’s stiff, clenched jawline, in a sly, smug way.

“Wooyoung? No, please, he’s a hunter… He’s not a murderer…” The professor says, shivering, feeling an unusual flare of heat around his loins at that almost imperceptible touch, while his eyes get filled with tears, like the whole sadness in the world has just been poured onto him and he now has to live with it, and realizes that San must be doing something to him by the way his irises are shining, almost blindingly bright, and his teeth are gritting. 

“Is there really any difference, Professor? And if there is, where would you draw the line?” San hisses, his words echoing in Seonghwa’s ears like a curse, while his eyes squint into two bright fissures and he shows him his sharp teeth in a menacing way that freezes the blood in Seonghwa’s veins.

In a second, he has the clear perception of not owning his mind anymore and of spectating someone else’s memories… San’s memories. He hears agonizing screams and choking gurgles, quaking fire and hurling wind, muttered sobs and begging cries. He sees the forest set on fire and the vale filled up with gumiho corpses. He sees the horror his people brought to San’s land and almost loses his mind at the haunting guilt and sufferance he feels suddenly burdened with, as if he were to make amend for all humankind. As soon as his lips tremble and a feeble sigh leaves his lips, though, San wraps his face in his hands and _licks_ away the tears from his cheeks.

“Oh no, no, no, my poor little fragile thing. This is not your fault. However -San says, taking a small pause, during which his tone completely shifts, from sweet to a slightly darker, even though honey-coated, one- if you want to come with me in the woods, I will have to ask for a little token of your trust, just as I will give you one of mine. But no need to worry about yours right now. My gift comes first, just so that you feel welcomed and that you get the exact grasp of my… _Commitment_.”

Seonghwa furrows his brows, confused, as he tries to understand where that whole thing is going, feeling like hanging on a subtle thread between reality and a dream, but at the same time being attracted to that mysterious individual in an irresistible, magnetic, powerful way, that ends up having the best of his reasoning. 

“What do you mean?” The Professor asks with an exhausted breath. The whole series of events has been having quite a toll on him, and he feels his mind slowly giving up on him as he progressively perceives how the reactivity of his brain is progressively dimming down.

“Why, isn’t it obvious? You asked me to come into my world, but the access to it is not just granted to anyone demanding that. Just like it happens in your world, my world has a strong legislation that any creature needs to abide by. So if you want to come in and observe us, you have to become one of us. Do you understand what I’m saying, Professor?” San says, with a wink, earning a vigorous nod from Seonghwa.

“Yes... I do understand.”

After all, transition rituals are nothing new for him: every human culture has them and the fact that the species to which San belongs to in unknown to him is not a justification to imagine they don’t have any.

“Go ahead. _Touch me_.” He whispers, spreading his arms wide in front of him, while his tails unfold like a fan, all poofed up and shiny with hues of silver.

Seonghwa is a man of science.

Seonghwa knows that animals need to be carefully studied in their environment, observed in their interactions with other species, examined in their habits and behaviors, and only then they can be approached. 

He has a methodology which he follows to the letter. He is known for his patience and for his incredible capability to be able to interact with any creature in the most appropriate way, thanks to his accurate studies and his mindful procedure… Yet, this time, the whole situation doesn’t feel like he is actively earning the creature’s trust, rather the contrary.

 _If I present a study with premises of this like to the National Society, this will be my one way ticket to radiation_ , Seonghwa thinks.

The moonlight shines and caresses the miraculously clear skin of the gumiho, giving it an opalescent glow, and golden specks in his eyes glimmer like a flame that lights up a fire right in the Professor’s core, who isn’t even capable to listen to the soft spoken words coming out of his wet lips, drawn as he is towards him. Before he knows, Seonghwa finds himself touching San’s cold, smooth cheekbones with the tip of his fingers, while San offers him a delighted smile. As his palm lays down against San’s face and his fingers run along the tall angle of his cheekbone, the concave shape of his cheek, the sharp line of his jaw, Seonghwa realises that he doesn’t plan to stop. His hands get more needy with every second they spend on the gumiho’s body and he surprises his fingers trying to earn centimeters of skin under their touch, for them to reach, to handle, to grab, to slide onto, uncontrollable and fatal like an addiction. Every time his hands get more shameless and demanding, Seonghwa is encouraged to dare more by San’s compliant movements, as he sinfully looks at him with languid eyes and stretches his body for him to admire, to caress, to pull closer, in a silent invitation to help himself and indulge him in any humanly conceivable way. 

Soon enough, Seonghwa’s hands are so eager that they slowly run all over the gumiho: around his sinuous neck, on his prominent collarbones, along the hems of his impalpable silk robe, on top of his warm, broad chest, under the tightly fastened, silver embroidered band around his lean waist, round his hips, on his hip bones, in a combined action of scientific interest and pure covetousness. Seonghwa can’t quite tell what it is, but his drive is strongly fueled by the unreal feeling of experiencing the touch of such a completely different creature under his palms, so absolutely new to him in the way San’s toned body almost softens like butter at the passage of his hands on him and at the warmth San’s skin puts out when Seonghwa’s caresses indulge on him for more than a few seconds, accompanied by a soft, guttural humming coming from the gumiho’s throat, close enough to a purr but not quite as tame. 

“You’re so beautiful… -Seonghwa whispers, his big, black eyes filled with marvel and irises trembling with a reverent, almost religious, kind of awe- So beautiful, powerful and majestic…”

“I am. But don’t you want to find out just _how much_?” San giggles, endeared at the naive and elementary way humans use in order to compliment or flatter the object of their desire.

Humans are so simple, he thinks, that it’s an absolute contradiction to see how complex their artifacts are, when compared to their primitive ways of interaction. 

They’re just like children: they have their tantrums and they fight when they don’t get what they want, but at the same time they’re so easy to impress with the tiniest magic trick and they obey gladly when shown the slightest amount of interest. Seonghwa, however, is different. San likes that human. He’s intelligent and highly functioning. He’s empathetic. Merciful. Kind at heart. Full of potential. Of course, if he hadn’t liked him, he would have let the earth dispose of him, but that is not the case. Seonghwa is a special human and San intends to claim him.

“May I…?” San asks, fidgeting with one of the mother of pearl buttons of Seonghwa’s shirt.

“Sure.” Seonghwa answers, looking at San’s eyes growing wider and getting glassy with anticipation, while Seonghwa’s fingers untie the band holding his gown together and San slowly begins to undress him in return, inhaling the smell of his skin and lightly scratching it with his nails at their passage.

“Such a perfect body, such a feast for the senses -San says, under his breath, admiring Seonghwa’s lean, firm silhouette and tracing the outlines of his muscles with his fingertips- Do you think I could have you? Would you want me to show you ways to pleasure and seduction unknown to your kind? Would you be willing to surrender and let me take you?” The more he speaks, the more his words sound like an hypnotizing chanting, that overwhelms Seonghwa’s mind and fuels his senses’ eagerness, until he throws himself in the strong arms of the gumiho, ready to welcome and embrace him.

When Seonghwa kisses San, he gets completely blown away by the feeling of heat and wetness coming from his soft lips pressing against his own and from his long, sinuous tongue sliding into his mouth and caressing its insides with gentle, enticing strokes. In the heat of the moment, the find themselves falling on the dewy grass and on their clothes, scattered all around them, while their skins warm up against each other, burning with desire, and their hands pursue the discovery of every curve, every muscle, every hollow of their bodies. San’s tails caress and tickle all along the perfect curve that goes from Seonghwa’s nape all the way down to his loins, while his nails are busy grabbing and scratching his milky skin, his teeth feast on his supple lips and smooth neck, causing a waterfall of airy breaths and whiny moans to slip from the Professor’s lips, as he wraps his legs around the gumiho’s waist and grabs tightly on his back’s muscles, trying to find satisfaction in that raw touch.

The more heated they get, the more feral San becomes in the way he ravages the Professor’s body by digging his nails in his chest and hips, leaving long, bleeding streaks all over him, and by biting around his neck, his shoulders, his waistline with his sharp teeth, until he cannot count the marks he has left on him. To his surprise, though, Seonghwa doesn’t oppose the slightest resistance: quite the opposite, actually. Every time he hurts him, San can feel the human’s erection throb and quiver against his own, and every single scratch and bite is welcomed by a loud ensemble of heavy breaths and aroused moans, which, if possible, convinces San even more of the fact that he has definitely chosen the best candidate for himself. He stares, almost in a kind of trance, for a few seconds at the enchanting carmine droplets and rivulets rising and flowing on his porcelain skin and compulsively inhales the inconfundible metallic smell of blood, quivering with excitement as a primal thirst awakens in him and clouds his mind. Next thing Seonghwa knows, San pounces on top of him, pinning him to the ground and licking all over the bite and claw marks on his body. His tongue feels soft and velvety and there is something in his saliva that has a kind of soothing, numbing yet tingling effect that strongly contrasts with the feral way with which San is sucking on his flesh with loud slurping sounds and guttural moans of enticement. 

“You are delicious -He says, raising up his head only to look at him with glowing eyes and blood dripping down his chin- I wonder what else of you I would be allowed to taste…”

San lets his words linger while he gently retraces the line of Seonghwa’s hip bones and the sweet path leading to his groin with the tip of his fingers, making Seonghwa shiver and twitch, eager for more.

There is a static in the air and an emptiness within him that can only make him long for more. Every time the gumiho plays with his body, every touch, every soft caress of his tails, every kiss, every bite, every scratch, only push him further to explore the deeper, darker part of his subconscious’ desires, in an relentless descent towards his unspeakable wishes and rawest instincts. After a long and nearly grueling wait for their bodies to come together, Seonghwa cries with fulfillment as soon as he feels San taking him and making him his own. Not a single tear is wasted, as the gumiho turns his face towards himself and kisses them away, while slowly making his way inside of Seonghwa with slow, paced, undulating movements. Each small thrust is followed by pleading moans from the both of them and endless kissing sounds, and their warm, wet skins brush one against the other in an endless friction, the blood and the sweat and the slick seal them together and tinge them all over with stains that look like some type of primitive artworks, their bodies becoming the ultimate masterpiece, the perfect collision of senses and reason, of nature and art, of order and chaos getting unbreakably intertwined in an ancestral bond of a form of magic as old as the world itself. A thunder in the distance lights up the woods and streaks of blue static, glittering and leaving burns on the wet soil, all direct themselves at once to the spot where the human and the gumiho are entranced in their love making, drawing a circle of silvery blue flames around them, that rise higher and higher towards the sky, in blazing columns of arcane fire, as their thrusts get faster and stronger and their moans leave their mouths in an ascending spiral of unintelligible words that conjures the perfect love charm. When their moans turn into choked screams of pleasure, when their bodies tremble together so much that they need to grab onto each other, when the size of the gumiho becomes almost impossible for the human’s tightness to bear, when their kisses sound like clashing teeth and the attrition of their skins almost sets them ablaze, that’s when the ultimate moment of of holiness occurs, when their climax spurts out in milky streaks and pearls drizzle on the ground. As soon as their pleasure bedews the grass under them, the columns of flames bolt up to tear the dark skies on top of them, lighting up the whole woods with their blinding light, only to fade away a moment after and leave them wrapped back under the comfortable hug of the night sky the following moment.

They lay together, tightly hugging one another, for a countless amount of time, gently cuddling and caressing each other with a fondness that Seonghwa would have never thought to find in the arms of such a prodigious creature.

The gumiho caresses Seonghwa’s face in an almost motherly way with a form of fondness that almost has him melting at the touch.

Seonghwa slowly feels a feverish sensation spread across his limbs, contrasting with the freezing trembles running all over down his spine and down to his limbs, sweat droplets crowning his forehead and sliding along his skin like a rain of tears.

Eventually, he understands: his metamorphosis has begun, but before he can feel any kind of fear taking over him, he is welcomed by San’s arms in a warm embrace.

“You must be very worn out, and it’s completely understandable. Humans are such fragile creatures… But worry not. This process will only take a few hours, most of which you will spend unconscious. I will take care of you. I will be next to you, from now on. I will watch over you and keep you safe and take you wherever you want. You’ll never be abandoned anymore, Seonghwa. You have me and I have you.” San sweetly says, softly cradling him as he plants a countless amount of kisses on his forehead and brushes away his tears, while enveloping him in a gentle hold with all of his fluffy, warm tails.

Before he knows it, Seonghwa falls asleep in the gumiho’s loving arms and, for at least a little while, for at least as long as San will hold him, for at least as long as he will be able to be lulled by the beat of his heart, he feels perfectly safe.

* * *

  
  
  


Wooyoung is not one to be afraid.

He has never been the type of person who would allow such a trivial thing as fear to take over him and dictate his actions. Of course, he is very in touch with his instincts: if something, being a huntsman teaches you to listen to your guts, given how in the end, all humans are animals as well and are given a set of primal instincts that, in Wooyoung’s experience, very seldom have proven themselves to be wrong. Flight or fight is definitely one of the most relevant parts of that set of ancestral, animal impulses humans carry with themselves from the dawn of times. But one thing is that instinct, which is very healthy and wise to listen to, and another thing is the kind of fear he is feeling right now, creeped by the owls howling and by the oddly discomforting chirping of the cicadas in the distance. He looks up to the sky to find guidance in the stars, but they’re nowhere to be seen, covered by a thick mantle of dark clouds that makes it impossible for him to find his way.

Wooyoung shakes his head, swallowing the tears rising to the brim of his eyes: this must have been how Seonghwa felt when he left him all alone in the forest. He abandoned him after giving him his word to assist him in his researches. He abandoned him after promising him they would have gone north together. He abandoned him after making love to him, too scared to face the consequences of that single, perfect moment of pure connection between them because he chickened out at the thought of owing Seonghwa at least an adult conversation about that matter. 

Conversation that, goes without saying, he was not ready to have and that now will probably never happen. 

The very thought of something having happened to him chills the blood through his veins, even more so because he knows that, hadn’t he just left him in that goddamn vale for such a stupid reason, Seonghwa and him would probably now still be together. They could probably be sitting next to each other, talking by their campfire, holding hands and mindlessly kissing every now and then, in a parallel universe where Wooyoung hadn’t made that poor, infamous decision.

The soil is so muddy and the rain is pouring so hard that walking is out of the question. He sighs, sucking up the bitter acknowledgement of having to stop his researches for the day and find shelter somewhere.

“Well, here goes nothing.” He mutters to himself, angrily, as he looks around to find a tree to with a hollow trunk big inside for him to shelter out of rain. 

Every step in that kind of mud is starting to be unbearably hard to take: his legs are feeling heavy, his boots get trapped in the sludge and splatter dirt all over his face, which he has to clean with the back of his hand, but when he gets accidentally splashed on the eyes, Wooyung needs to stop and at least look for something to clean his eyes up with. 

He hisses angrily and frustrated when the research takes him longer than he thinks: he could have sworn he had a handkerchief in his satchel, but right now that he needs it, it’s nowhere to be found. In the struggle of having to look for that thing with his eyes shut down, something he’s definitely uncomfortable with, since his sight is the sense on which he relies on the most, Wooyoung instinctively clenches all of his muscles, tensing up as a cold draught runs on his neck, freezing him in place. Wooyoung barely breathes, trying to prick his ears to pick up any possible, subtle sound, and waits as still as he can be for whatever might be lurking in the shadows to come out and face him, while he ever so slowly brings his hand around the hilt of the dagger he always carries around his waist.

There’s a sound of footsteps getting closer and closer, but they’re so light that he cannot really understand from which direction exactly they’re coming from.

Wooyoung takes a deep breath and swallows, struggling to stay put and battling with his instinct of survival that screams in the back of his mind to run away, while his heart pounds in his throat so fast that he can feel its pulse in his ears.

“Here -he hears a voice speaking to him, incredibly close to his face- Clean yourself up, Huntsman darling.”

It’s a masculine voice, soothing and gentle, and it sounds definitely familiar.

 _Way too familiar_ …

It cannot be...

He feels the unidentified person grabbing his hand and placing in it something soft and weightless, a wide piece of silky fabric, with which Wooyoung instantly cleans up his eyes, before getting up in a defensive stance and swinging his dagger, thing which causes the two figures standing in front of him, cloaked in the darkness’ embrace, to burst out in a silvery, heartfelt laughter. 

“Feisty! -another voice says, this time in a sarcastic tone and with a more velvety sound to it, in spite of the higher pitch- You didn’t tell me he was so...belligerent. But then again, what did I expect from a murderer.”

“San, please…” The first voice retaliates in a pleading way.

“Who… Who are you… -Wooyoung eventually asks, his brows furrowed in the effort to try to capture the facial features of the two figures before him, internally questioning whether that one closer to him might really be…- _Seonghwa_?”

Seonghwa snaps his fingers and blue flame lights up on the top of his forefinger, shedding a cool glow on his facial features. Wooyoung suddenly recognises him and almost melts in tears, overcome with emotion, but right when he’s on the verge of throwing himself into the Professor’s arms, he is stopped by the realisation that there is something off with him.

Yes, his face is the pretty much the same, but he looks taller than how he remembered him being just a couple weeks before. Moreover, his bone structure looks sharper and his eyes are _different_ : his irises, that once used to be dark and deep, are now almost ice clear and what’s even more unsettling about them is that they do not reflect light. They are glowing themselves.

Seonghwa smiles, and for a moment Wooyoung is taken back to that one first night they spent together, wishing now more than ever he had never left. He cups Seonghwa’s face with both of his hands and, at long last, allows himself to cry.

“I’m sorry, Seonghwa… I’m sorry… I don’t know what took over me… -Wooyoung mutters, through the sobs, almost choking as breathing gets harder and harder every second he spends close to him, completely overcome by guilt and remorse for his selfish, juvenile spitefulness.- I swear I didn’t want to leave you there… I came back… I’ve been looking for you for almost two weeks now… Seonghwa I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, so, so sorry…”

The huntsman sinks his face in the crook of Seonghwa’s neck, while Seonghwa caresses his long, golden lock and hushes him until he calms down, finally breathing easier after a long and relieving cry.

“You missed me.” Seonghwa states, in an endeared tone.

“Of course I missed you, I regretted my actions almost instantly, but when I came back you were gone… I was so scared something had happened to you…” Wooyoung says, almost whining, still trying to catch his breath and sniffling.

“Well, you are not wrong. Something did happen to me.” He says, and in that moment San reaches up to them, getting closer with slow, elegant, inaudible steps, and softly wraps his hand around Seonghwa’s one, while offering a gentle smile to Wooyoung, which nonetheless makes him quiver with a fearful sense of majesty.

“Hello, human. My name is San, but unlike our sweet Seonghwa, here, I believe you know what I am… Well, what we are…” He says and then turns to look at Seonghwa with incredible fondness.

Wooyoung squints his eyes, pulling out from Seonghwa’s arms and taking a long, inquisitive look at the both of them, aided by the multiple tiny flames that San conjures around them with a clap of his hands.

Now that he can properly see them, he is left out of breath and completely shocked: there, right in front of his eyes, there is not one, but two gumihos, a mischievous creature, a demon of seduction, a monster, half human and half fox, he didn’t even believe could really exist, besides than in the tales that the elders of his village would tell the children to prevent them from getting lost in the woods. 

“You… No, no, no, you cannot be…” He murmurs, trying to wrap his head around how it could even be possible to be turned into a gumiho.

“Oh, believe me, huntsman, there are way more things under the sky than the ones your mind can conceive.” San says, in a slightly patronizing, yet still very polite, tone, that nonetheless irritates the hunter quite a bit.

“Just… _How_ ? _Why_?” Wooyoung asks, confused, trying his best to not let his temper have the best of him, while he takes slow steps around both San and Seonghwa, who let him touch their fur and poke their tails, tenderly entangled in a loving hold. It is clear to the both of them that the hunter is having a hard time understanding them, their nature, their bond, therefore there is no point in opposing to his curiosity.

“It is a very ancient magic that can be conjured only under some very specific conditions. As for the reason why, I was obliged to show Seonghwa my gratitude for intervening and saving my life when _you_ were about to murder me. Oh, and about that little happenstance, don’t worry: I am not a resentful creature.” San answers, getting closer to Wooyoung and tapping with his long nails on the hunter’s broad shoulders, as he walks around him. 

“You know? -San says, resting his face on Wooyoung’s shoulder, in a soft yet seductive way that induces the human’s heartbeat to significantly increase- As soon as he smelled your trace, Seonghwa has not given me a second of truce until I promised him we would have rescued you. Isn’t he a darling?”

When he hears San’s words, Seonghwa blushes and hides away his face behind the black fur of his tails, leaving only his eyes in sight for the other two to look at, while gleefully giggling behind that soft cover.

“You’re such a sap sometimes, don’t embarrass me!” He playfully whines, pretending to be upset. 

“I was falling in love with you, Seonghwa, you know? I never understood how to tell you and ended up doing the complete opposite, because I was scared of what I was feeling, because I didn’t have a name for any of… this… -Once again, the huntsman interrupts the romantic interludes going on between the two of them, feeling like he has missed his one and only chance for love in his entire life by walking away from Seonghwa on that cursed day- I just wanted to be next to you and roam the forests together. I wanted to listen to all of your stories, dreaming of how it would have been to be there with you, and to show you the places my heart belonged to, before it belonged to you. I wanted to travel north and give you all your heart desired. I wanted for you to have everything I could offer, and possibly even more, though I’m fully aware my everything could have never been, even by far, what you deserve… But now, now this is all gone. Now that you have left me, none of these wishes is worth anything anymore. Why did you do that, Seonghwa?” At this point, Wooyoung is not even making questions anymore. He is pleading for answers which he doesn’t understand but that he nevertheless needs to hear. He is standing in front of them, held together by a strand of hope for his heart to not fall apart, while he hands it to Seonghwa as his ultimate atonement sacrifice.

“But don’t you see, Wooyoung? We can still do all these things together.” Seonghwa answers, saddened at the lack of elasticity of the human and at the pain he feels coming from him. It is such a deep, genuine grief that a single, silver tear rolls down from his eyes, as he turns around, his heavy gaze landing upon San’s one.

Even though his expression seems almost imperturbable, Seonghwa can see that he is feeling Wooyoung’s sufferance just as much as he is. They look at each other and, without saying a word, they both turn to meet the huntsman’s face, warped with misery.

“Do you really wish for all these things to become true, Huntsman?” San gently asks, eventually, bringing his hand to dry his tears, moved by the human’s love for his beloved one, forced to recognise by the absolute purity of his words how the one he is facing is not a murderer, but a gentle soul going through a terribly excruciating time.

Wooyoung, not having in himself the strength to even open up his mouth and speak a word, limits himself to sniff and answers with a vigorous nod of his head, fondling his cheek against San’s warm hand, busy drying his tears and caressing his skin with an otherworldly delicateness. 

After getting his answer, San grabs Seonghwa’s hand with his spare one, locking their fingers together. He looks at him with the most melancholic expression his beloved one has ever seen on his perfect, beautiful face, and lowers his head, his fuzzy ears flattened in dismay.

“If you so desire -San whispers to Seonghwa’s ear- I think I can make room in my heart for him as well as how I did for you. His soul is gentle and his heart is brave. Do you think that he could learn to love me, as well, with time?”

Seonghwa has never seen San being that vulnerable like he is now, and for some reason that only makes him love him even more. 

“I know that what is hereby being asked to you is a lot, my adored, but these days in my new life have taught me that nature can always and only tolerate more love. Not the same goes with hate, or greed, or envy, or jealousy. Nature is selfless, kind, generous and loving. And if something has been declared possible within the great order of nature, then it should only be natural for us to follow it, if we want to live in full accordance with it, don’t you think?” Seonghwa’s answer leaves San impressed and forces a smile to rise on his lips.

“Your will be done, then, darling. -San says, taking a deep breath, as his eyes travel back and forth from Wooyoung to Seonghwa.- Do you want to do it yourself?” He asks, respectfully willing to take a step back, in order to abide by whichever wish Seonghwa will express.

“No. I need to do it with you. Even more so, I want to do it with you. I want you to bond with him, to knot him, to turn him. Please.” Seonghwa murmurs, voice coated in honey and smooth as silk, as he walks up to Wooyoung and slowly begins to brush his hair with his own long fingers and to kiss his neck lustfully, inviting San to join him with an alluring gaze.

“Of course, darling, whatever you want. I promised you… You have me and I have you. It will be a delightful chance to renew my vows, this time to the both of you.” San responds, without thinking twice, licking his mouth with quivering anticipation as his smells the human’s scent turn from sadness to, eventually, enticement.

The ritual has, once more, begun.


End file.
